Radical
by Rex de Draconem
Summary: Seven high school students are thrown into Westeros just as Jon Arryn dies. The Game of Thrones universe is not radically different from highschool.
1. Begin Game

Radical - Chapter One: Begin Game

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 ** _Long time no see. This is a Challenge Fic. A friend of mine told me she thought that I was writing FanFiction about her and her totally-perfectly-matched-but-not-yet-official girlfriend. Because I like self-fulfilling prophecies, and because I wanted to write a Game of Thrones Fic, I wrote this. It will feature seven high school students (the above mentioned friends and then some) being thrown into Weseros. There, they play the Game of Thrones, which is essentially a more fatal version of high school. Cheating, backstabbing, lying, spreading rumors, incest and raising armies, with the occasional undead apocalypse. Just another boring day._**

 ** _I've read the books, and have some issues with how the TV show played them out, specifically with regards to Loras and the Sand Snakes, but I can understand why the producers cut the not as necessary characters to make room for the main course. I will however, try to include as many of these cut characters as I can, although this Fic will only be in the POV of the students._**

 ** _I did exaggerate some features of my friends, and tone down others, but I still think I got their characters/mindset right. I specifically exaggerated their fighting skills. I gave them all the basics, simply so that they don't die thirty seconds after awakening in Westeros. Only some of my friends watch GoT, so only some will have the knowledge of what happened._**

* * *

Narration

"Dialogue"

 _Thoughts_

 **POV - Which Character the Perspective is**

 ** _Authors Note_**

* * *

 **POV - Lauren**

You know what I really don't like? Surprises. They're never good, especially for a promising young world dictator such as myself. They're rude, inconvenient, and always manage to come at all the wrong times.

This was a nastier surprise than I'm used to, however.

Normally, I have a very strict morning routine that I do for good luck. Wake up, shower, do hair, makeup, get dressed, double check everything, go to school. This routine has kept me in the top percentile of my school for as long as I can remember.

It's rather hard to go through with this routine when you wake up in the middle of a chapel in your pajamas. Even more difficult when that chapel happens to have a corpse being mourned by seven freaky priests performing some sort of ritual.

 _Think Lauren! What was the last thing you remember?_ I took a deep breathe. Ok, so I'm in my PJs, so clearly I was in bed. Before that, I was at a party. What could have happened during the party to send me here? I didn't take any date-rape drugs, I definitely got home, and I avoid regular drugs like the plague anyway.

Realization dawned upon me. It was that idiot nerd! He made me do that stupid chant with a bunch of other people! He said that we would be sent to a better world, and that we only needed faith!

Clearly he had enough faith to go around, since I didn't believe that anymore than his boasts of evil. Why he thought that professing his undying love for evil will bring in the girls, I'll never know.

But there are bigger problems. If I'm here, is anyone else? Is he here? If so, would I be able to get away with murdering him?

No, wrong questions! Think about how to get back to the Land-of-the-Free. I really do need to make it the Land-of-the-Greatest-Dictator-Ever. Myself, of course.

Let's start with where I am.

This chapel seems familiar, but it's not one of the building I studied for AP Art History. Not in any of the styles, either.

The priests seem doubly familiar.

Wait, I know that corpse! I've seen this! This is Game of Thrones! That's the Hand, the one Robert Baratheon had, before Cersei had him poisoned! So this is the Red Keep, and I'm in Westeros.

'Better Land', my ass. He's gonna get it when I see him.

OK, let's see what I can do. If I remember the show correctly, which I most certainly do, the continent is in turmoil. Robert should be going to see Ned, so...

So what? Should I try to get back to my home, or stay here?

Another question, is anyone else in Westeros?

There were seven of us in the chant, the moron claiming that seven is the most magical number, so there should be six other of my friends here. Including Emma, and the idiot. That's good.

But Matt was also there... That's bad.

I groaned.

The priests noticed me then, and approached me. I received strange looks for my apparel, not that I could blame them, and before I knew it, I was surrounded.

"Hello there. My name is Lauren-" on second thought, maybe I shouldn't give away my real name to complete strangers, who are definitely working for people who would have me killed for the slightest gain. Well, I've already committed to Lauren. "-Depp. Lauren Depp, nice to meet you all." Well, if I couldn't marry my beloved Johnny on Earth, I can at least steal his last name here. What he doesn't know, after all. "I seem to be lost. If you would kindly direct me to the nearest exit, I'd be happy to be on my way."

They exchanged glances. They were probably wondering if they should give me up to their masters, and furthermore, probably wondering which one to give me to first.

Since I'm a 5'3" brunette with the body of a goddess, in my ever so humble opinion, they were probably thinking of giving me to Little Finger first. He was a pimp after all. And between my long brown hair, and fierce brown eyes, I was considered quite pretty where I came from.

Of course, they didn't know that it was 5'3" of absolute pain that awaited any move to defile me. Say what you will about the asshole that sent me here, but he did teach me how to fight with a knife very well.

Wait, did he do that on purpose? Is that why he wanted to teach me how to fight with the sword so badly? So he could send me here and I wouldn't die in minutes?

Perhaps I hadn't given his dedication to evil enough credit. If nothing else, he's good at thinking several moves ahead.

"Why are you here, girl?" One priest said. Bold of him, to speak first. From my knowledge, the one who spoke first received the blame of things went south. And they usually went south.

"As I said, I'm lost. Just point me to the Kings Road, and I'll be going." I explained.

A plan was forming in my head. I couldn't decide whether I should go home, or stay and try to rule here. But either way, I'd need serious resources to do that. And people around me who I could trust not to stab me in the back. If I can find my way North, and 'invent' something from Earth, wealth would be easy. The North, they pride themselves on loyalty, they would never betray me.

I grinned internally. And power would come easily, if I seduce Rob Stark. The King in the North may have failed in George's universe, but perhaps he shouldn't in this one.

Either way, I can't stay in Kings Landing. Too many traitors here.

Then again, if I could kill Joffery, karma would be on my side for some time. On the flip side, if I did kill Joffery, then the continent wouldn't go into turmoil, and I wouldn't have a chance to grab power.

"That won't do." Said one of the priests. "Come with me, I'll take you somewhere safe." Without waiting for my approval, he grabbed my arm, and dragged me away.

* * *

 **POV - Emma**

What. The. Fuck.

I don't know where I am. I don't know when I am. I know who I am, but just barely. I know what I am; a human. Do I know why I am? No, but I try not to think about it.

Something else I know: that god damned bastard is going to wish he was never born when I see him. I still don't know why I decided to do that stupid chant of his, but clearly, I will not be doing anything he wants ever again.

My name is Emma. And I'm in the middle of a stupid fucking forest. I hate forests. It's fucking freezing. I hate the cold. And I'm in my pajamas.

They're not even pajamas. It's a fucking tank top and shorty shorts. If someone finds me here, I'm asking for a blanket first, and a knife second. Blanket for my cold, and my modesty, and the knife for...

Well, just the modesty I suppose. Wouldn't want anyone getting handsy with me. The fact that I feel safer with a knife is also important. I wouldn't worry about it much at home, since Lauren and the fucking idiot who threw me here have made it clear that anyone who flirts with me flirts with death.

But they're not here.

I frowned. My family's gone. And I may never see them again.

A pit in my stomach grew, and found its way into my throat. Before I knew it, tears were in my eyes.

No!

I wiped away the tears, and drew myself up to my full 5'9" glory. I am Emma, and I will not cry!

I'll find civilization, a knife, and my friends. Then I'll find him, and he'll send me back. And everything will go back to normal.

Expect for his face, of course. It'll never look the same once I'm done with it.

I walked a fair distance, until I found a grisly sight. A stag had fought some sort of giant wolf, and they both died.

It looked like the stag got its antlers in the wolf, then the wolf ripped the throat out of the stag, but the wolf died of blood loss. Or maybe organ damage. I'm not good with animals that aren't puppies.

I resisted vomiting, but I did see a road. I climbed my way up, only to see horsemen approaching.

Horsemen? Really? So out of fashion. And horses stank.

But that didn't matter. What mattered, was that there were humans on those horses, that would take me to a city!

The leading horsemen gave me a strange look, not that I could blame him. He stopped, and waved his hand for the others to join him.

"Girl. What are you doing here? And in your current state of dress? Did you get lost from the brothel?" He was dressed in furs of all things, and had hair that was either red or brown. Auburn maybe? He was handsome enough, but he did just imply I was hooker. Not a good first impression for a young man to make on a young woman such as myself.

A other horsemen decided to chime in, "If you're from the brothel, I'd love to give you a _ride_ back!" This one was not only significantly uglier, but ruder as well. He had sandy hair, and I couldn't help but compare him to a weasel.

I curled my lips in disgust. Men were such awful creatures. The first one didn't seem so bad, only asking, but that second was clearly someone to avoid. Although, I think that may have been a compliment. He was hitting on me, even if it was rudely and poorly. Not that I can _really_ blame him, my beauty has rendered more than a few male mouths useless. Perfectly styled brunette hair, hourglass figure, and doe brown eyes make me a wonderful combination of beauty. "No, I don't know where I am. Can you please take me back to whatever city you came from?"

A new rider came from the back. "Robb, get the girl up. Jon, get a better look at those animals. Theon, keep your remarks to yourself. Girl, what is your name, and purpose on my lands?"

Should I tell him my name? I'll just give a fake last name. "My name is Emma Dewshown. I don't know what I'm doing here, I went to sleep and woke up here. Where am I?"

The man frowned. He looked kind of like the first rider, so they may be family. Speaking of the first horseman, he gave me his fur cloak, took my hand and helped me onto his horse. Perhaps he was a gentleman after all.

"You're in the North of Westeros, in the forest near Winterfell. Does that sound familiar?"

I shook my head. "Sorry. I've never heard of any of that. I'm from the United States of America. I don't suppose you've heard of that?" I asked. Worth a shot.

Also, thank goodness I took horse riding lessons when I was younger. I didn't embarrass myself in front of Prince Kinda-Charming here.

"No, I have never heard of such a place, although it reminds me of the Free Cities of Essos. My name is Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North. You're riding with my eldest son, Robb Stark. You've met Theon Greyjoy, my ward. My son Jon Snow is examining the wolf below you."

I looked at his other son. "Why doesn't he have the same name as your other son? Not that I mind, Snow is kind of a prettier name than Stark, no offense."

The man in question came back from the wolf. He had black, curly hair, and brown eyes. Equally as handsome as the man I'm riding a horse with.

"Because I'm a bastard. My father sired me from a woman he was not married to in a time of Great War. He was gracious enough to raise me as his own." He explained. He did not look happy.

I tensed. Now I was the one making bad impressions. "I'm sorry, I didn't know! Please don't be mad!"

The man tilted his head. "Mad? I'm not mad."

Robb chuckled. "That's just his face Emma, he's not mad."

And just like that, I suddenly forgot all about the cold. My face was as red as a tomato, and I did not see a way out.

Jon shook his head. "My Lord, it is a direwolf killed by a stag. There are five pups."

Theon got off his horse. "Well, they won't live long out here." He drew his knife. "Give them to me, I'll take care of them."

I frowned. He was way too quick to come to the 'murder innocent animal' idea.

Luckily, Jon had similar thoughts. "My Lord, there are five pups. One for each of your children. I believe this to be an omen."

Eddard stroked his beard, and Theon stopped his advance. "Hm. Take them back with us, we will deal with them at Winterfell."

Theon frowned, and out his knife away. Jon looked like he was happy, but also constipated. I considered asking Robb, but he may just tell me 'that's just his face' again, and I'm not about to put my foot in my mouth again.

Theon scowled as he mounted his horse, and Jon handed him three pups. He then went back, and found two more. He gave me the remaining two.

Oh my god, they were so cute! I tried my hardest not to squeal, or bounce, or show any form of having the extremely real panic attack I was having at the level of cuteness of these puppies, but I think the rest saw anyway.

Just as Jon was about to get on his own horse, another pup ran out after him. Instead of the grey pelt like the other five, this one was completely white, save some of his mothers blood. Creepy.

"Look Jon, that's ones for you!" Theon remarked. "The runt of the litter, how fitting."

I really didn't like Theon. From the look on Jons face, he didn't either. But then again, that might just be his face.

* * *

 **POV - Amaury**

Something's are not meant to be experienced.

The current weather was one of them for me. I am not a fan of the heat. I am not a fan of the desert. I am not a fan of dying of dehydration.

I am a fan of the finer things in life. Comfortable beds, fine food, high quality video games.

These are not things found in deserts.

My name is Amaury, and I am horribly lost. It's been a couple of hours, of walking upwards of a stream. Have a boyscout for a friend, and you'll end up with some basic survival skills.

The Sun was not helping my pale skin. I was rather proud of it. Previously, it was immaculate. Now though, it is likely sunburned.

I let out a sigh.

At least my hair is still perfect. Short on the sides, but ling and wavy on top, it was the perfect hairstyle for a proper Frenchman such as myself.

There's something coming towards me. It might be a hallucination.

Nope, not a hallucination. Hallucinations are good things, like water, and naked women.

From what I can tell, several hundred horsemen are approaching me. This is not something that is good. And therefor, not a hallucination.

Also, this may not be good for me.

Should I run?

No, I wouldn't get too far. And there are t any white flags around, so I suppose I'll just have to wait for them to find me, and see what they want.

And so I sat down, waiting for my fate. I really hate the Sun. I hadn't realized it up until this moment, but I really hate it.

By the time they surrounded me, I was nearing blacking out.

"Water?" I croaked. Since when was I this dehydrated.

Wait. That might be one of the symptoms of dehydration. Not realizing it.

The leader of the band threw something at my feet. I picked it up, and discovered it was some kind of water skin made from real animal parts. Interesting. It doesn't really matter though, as long as there's real water in it.

I drank greedily, and a little fell from my lips, trailing down my chin. Warm water had never tasted so good in my life.

After a minute, it was empty. I wiped my lips, and examined my rescuers.

Five men on horse surrounded me. Each of them had biceps that were bigger than my waist, and had what appeared to be real weapons. One of them said something in a language I didn't understand. Sounded kind of like Russian, but that may have just been because they had similar guttural sounds.

"I speak English, French, and Spanish." I said. That didn't work. "Je parle français, anglais, et espangol." Another bust. "Hablo al español, englés, y francés." Not good. They still didn't know what I was saying.

They didn't understand. The one who threw me a water skin said something to his compatriots, and they nodded. Before I knew it, I was thrown over the back of one of the horses, going back to wherever they came from.

Whatever. It can't be worse than wandering in the desert, right?

* * *

 **POV - Matt**

I consider myself to be a very patient person.

However, this situation is not something I can be patient about. I fell asleep, and now I woke up and I'm not where I fell asleep. This is not good. This is quite bad.

But it's ok. Everything always works out in the end. I just need to have faith.

I took a deep breathe.

Ok. Let's go over the situation again.

I was at a party. I left the party. I came home. I went to bed. I woke up here.

Where's here? It's cold, and windy, and everything is awful. Kind of like England, my homeland, but worse.

Oh, and there's a castle. I woke up in front of the gates in fact. I suppose it was lucky that I fell asleep wearing regular clothes, blue jeans, a nerdy t-shirt that says "Rock, Paper, Scissors, Spock", a heavy gray sweater, and tennis shoes, otherwise I would've frozen to death some time ago.

The damned guards wouldn't let me into the castle, so I found shelter nearby. That's where I am now, sitting about ten minutes away from the castle, but hidden so the guards can't terrorize me if it suits them. Not that they could if they wanted to. My extensive knowledge of hand to hand combat and swordplay would see to their defeat. But I'd rather not have to deal with them.

Everything would be fine. This is probably a dream, anyway. I just need to have faith, and everything will work itself out.

I heard something crunch. Probably a twig, meaning that someone is nearby. I opened my eyes.

Not five feet from me, was a beautiful woman crouching, observing me.

She had copper red hair, and somehow had fire red eyes. She had the body a supermodel would kill for, full breasts and hips, but a slim waist. I'm honest enough to admit I have a weak spot for beautiful woman. I blame my Y-chromosome.

My own physical attributes seemed to go unnoticed by the female population of my home. My handsome bed head and my sharp blue eyes should have landed me at least one girlfriend this year, but I've been refused twice. I of course, blame the mixed signals they send.

The woman was wearing a flame red dress, that went down to her ankles, although I couldn't see them. Oddly enough, she had a red chocker collar with a ruby at the center.

"Hello." I said. Manners will cost me nothing. "My name is Matthew."

She blinked.

"It is good to meet you Matthew." She offered sheer hand, and I shook it. "Come with me at once Matthew."

I rose, and followed her. My faith rewarded me, once again. That'll show the atheist bastard.

Wait, maybe he caused this? He did say that we would be taken to a 'better world' if I did the chant. And I did do the chant with him, more to be polite, since he's my best friend, but I still didn't believe it. I just indulged him. It's easier to do that sometimes.

"What's you name Miss?" I asked. Never hurt to know a beautiful woman's name. Also, since she was leading me, I figured it best if I knew a bit more of what was going down.

"My name is Lady Melisandre. You may call me Melisandre."

That was nice. It was good to get on a first name basis with people. "In that case, call me Matt. I like it better anyway."

"Very well Matt." She said. She had yet to look back at me.

Before I could ask her where we were going, we got there. The castle I had just left. "I'm sorry Melisandre, but I was just kicked away from this castle. This may not be the best place for me."

She finally looked back at me. Except, it was more like she looked through me. Then she smiled. It was a mix of the look one would give to a child making a simple error, and and of a look one would receive if they're about to get a surprise. "No, you shall stay here for some time. The Lord of Light requires you."

Was she talking about Jesus? She better be talking about Jesus. I am not about to convert. But I also didn't have too many options. I suppose I'd just play along for now.

Melisandre led me through the gates, as the guards who had previously shooed me now saluted her. Odd, but good for me.

Several minutes later, we arrived at a room in the castle. And it was a real live freaking castle. It would do for now, but I would be looking into other arrangement sooner or later.

"These shall be your quarters for now. I hope you find them suitable. The Lord of this castle, Lord Stannis Baratheon, is away at the moment. He has left me in charge, and I break my fast at six in the morning, have lunch at one in the noon, and dine at seven in the evening. I hope you will join me then. We have much to discuss. It is late now, you should rest. Tomorrow, I will explain this world to you during our fast breaking, and have a servant show you around the castle until lunch. There, you will ask any questions you may have for me. After that, I wish for you to get to know the people of the castle, specifically the guards. Any questions about this schedule?"

I shrugged. Seemed easy enough. Sleep, eat, learn, explore, eat, learn, talk, eat, sleep, repeat. The details can be worried about as it occurs. "No questions."

"Good." She nodded, and headed away.

I widened my eyes in shock. "Wait!" I called. "How will I know when it's six? There's no clock in my room!"

She didn't even break her pace. "A servant will wake you at half past five to prepare you."

Well, alright then. Not sure about this 'servant' business, but perhaps it was better to learn first, ask questions later. More importantly, it was better to sleep now, and learn later.

* * *

 **POV - Vannessa**

I don't know what's going on.

When I woke up, I was staring down the hole in the floor. That hole led to a several thousand foot drop.

By the time I was done screaming my lungs out, someone picked me up.

It was a knight. A real life knight, in armor, with a sword and shield.

This is definitely a dream. The last thing I remember is going to sleep. So that must mean this is a dream, right?

Except, aren't you supposed to be in control of your dreams? And despite my best efforts, I'm not at home with a chocolate bar watching my favorite episode of Glee.

I'm in some sort of trial.

All the people dressed in old fashioned clothes and armor are delaying what to do with me. Specifically, if they should kill me for impregnating their fortress, whatever that means, or let me go, since there's no real evidence I did anything other than be here and alive at the same moment.

Oh, and I'm in a onesie too. Did I mention that? It's very comfortable, and it helps my nerves, but it's doesn't help my cause for 'Please don't kill me I'm totally sane just really high key lost and also maybe dreaming'. Of course, I'm too pretty for them to kill, anyway. I have a innocent face, and between that and my adorable hair, they shouldn't even consider killing me. My figure helps too, of course. I've already attracted several lingering looking from the 'honorable knights' of wherever I am, and I'm not sure if that's good or bad yet.

"Enough!" The lady on the throne shouted. She was in charge. It was good to see a woman in charge. Except she didn't look all there, to be honest. I think it had something to do with the child in her lap that seemed far too old for this type of coddling. "This is a time for mourning. My husband has passed, and his murderers run free. We cannot divide ourselves on an issue so petty as this. Girl, what is your name?"

I gulped. I don't want to give her my real name, but I also don't want to lie, or not say anything at all. I'll settle for a half truth then. "My name is Vannessa Spears."

She glared at me, as if I had done some injustice to her. Oh, damn it! "My Lady." I squeaked out. Her glare lessened, but didn't fully go away.

"We must come to a swift conclusion to this. Those that wish her executed, line up to my right. Those that wish her no harm, to my left. In rows of five, to be easily counted." The Lady said. Aaron was it? No, that's not quite right...

Once the other people were lined up, I counted. My eyes widened. It was a dead tie. They weren't about to come to some sort of 'She'll be half-dead' compromise, right? I'm too young to die!

The lady sighed. "It's a tie." She put her hand onto her forehead, and paused. Then she smiled. I do not like her smile, I decided. "Lord Arryn, you may decide her fate. Should she fly. Or should she roam free?"

The boy got off his mothers lap. At least, I think that's it was his mother. I'm not entirely sure of everything at the moment.

Wait, hold up. Is that child really going to decide my fate? I was about to open my mouth, then realized maybe I shouldn't offend the person who held my life in their hands.

"She's too pretty to break. Can we keep her mother?" He asked. He seemed a little too happy for a boy who just lost his father. Maybe they weren't that close.

The woman smiled. "You're the Lord, you may do anything you like! If you want to keep her, we shall keep her!"

Well. That's good.

* * *

 **POV - Ebby**

Things are not good. Things are bad. It is cold, I am close to dying of frostbite, and I have no idea where I am.

It's some sort of forest. No animals, and the trees are really big.

I wandered for what seemed like hours, until a band of misfits found me. I say misfits, because that's my nice word for barbarians. They had poorly kept clothes, that were ripped and a hideous shade of grey, and all had hair that would have broken any comb. Absolutely unacceptable.

But, after they confirmed I had no weapons, and that I was going to freeze to death if I didn't get warm soon, they offered their help.

Well, offer is a weak word for what they did.

They threw some fur coats over me, which was as warm as it was odorous, that being very, and at me down. Some went to find firewood, and they soon started a fire. Things were looking up, if I ignored the smell.

"So what's your name?" The one in charge asked. I was taller than all of them, but this didn't seem to intimidate them. Likely due to the weapons they carried, and the ease of which they carried them with.

"My name is Ebram sir. But you can call me Ebby." I said. Everyone always mispronounce Ebram anyways.

"Don't call me sir. I'm in charge, but we're Free Folk." He responded.

What the Hell is a Free Folk? "Sorry, I've never heard of the Free Folk. I... Don't think I'm from around here." I said.

He growled. Literally, growled. "You may have heard of us being referred to as Wildlings. But we're more than that. We have a system of life, that doesn't demand we kneel and make us pretend to give two shits about whoever said in charge. The leader is determined by strength, not blood. We're all equal up here."

I nodded. Sounds like my kind of place. "What's the biggest weapon you got?" I asked. If strength determined leadership, this was very good. I knew how to handle large weapons very well, warhammers and longswords specifically. A friend taught me how, some years ago.

"We're not giving you shit here, but there may be something back at our camp you can use. You'll have to survive until then." He explained.

I nodded. "Alright. What's your name again?" I asked. "And where are we going?"

"My names Tormund. I lead my clan of about a hundred Free Folk. Once you've warmed up, we'll head back to my camp. There, we'll figure out something."

Good. A plan that allowed for improvisation is a plan that won't break. It'll definitely bend though. The first thing I'm going to do as leader, is force everyone to wash their damned clothes.

* * *

 **POV - ?**

Things are going perfectly according to my plan. Perhaps they were a bit colder than I had imagined, but that was insignificant.

It was a problem that will soon be solved.

I woke up exactly where I meant to, in the middle of Crastors Keep. I slaughtered them all, hopefully that will hurt the intelligence gathering of the Knights Watch. And maybe spread rumors of the White Walkers, or perhaps even create my own personal rumor.

It doesn't really matter. I'm almost to The Fist of the First Men. Once I'm there, everything will be set. All I'll need is patience.

Actually, I may have a problem with that last part. Patience was never really my thing.

Then again, I may just freeze to death in this cold. I should've worn heavier clothes when I went to sleep. Oh well.

Hey! It's some Wildlings! Awesome, I'll kill them and take their furs.

There's... Hm... Seven of them. I love the number seven.

* * *

 _ **Hello everyone. That't the end of this chapter. I think it turned out pretty well, even if this is just a bunch of set ups. I think I've already said this, but I did exaggerate several skill sets of the characters, specifically their ability to fight. As far as I know, only Matt has any real experience fighting. Everyone else I just said the sorcerer taught them briefly before they were sent here.**_

 _ **Speaking of the sorcerer, yes, it's me. I'm evil. And I sent the other characters here, both in the Fic and as an author. I thought it was clever. No, I won't tell you my name just yet. Yes, my scenes will generally be much shorter than everyone else's.**_

 _ **No last names. I'm coming up with them as I go, they aren't symbolic of anything.**_

 _ **I tried to describe the characters as best I could, since no one here knows who they are. Mention it if you want a bit more of a description, and if there's a huge outcry, then I'll write a bit more about their appearances, but otherwise I'm leaving it up to your imagination.**_

 _ **It's tough writing about people you know personally. I still don't think I got Ebby totally. But oh well. They'll change slowly but surely over the course of this.**_

 _ **I will probably update sooner rather than later, since people in real life seem to like it, and are pressuring me to write more.**_

 _ **REVIEW! It shows you care.**_


	2. The Tutorial

Radical - Chapter Two

* * *

 _ **Hello again. It's Red. I'd like to point out that I am unlike the GRRM and the writes of GoT in that I do believe in karma, and that characters should be allowed to use logic. Thus, a bias may be apparent in this Fic. I never was a fan of Sansa, or Theon. Among others.**_

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Narration

"Dialogue"

 _High Valyrian_

 _ **Authors Note**_

 **POV - Character of scene**

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 **POV - Lauren**

After several minutes of being dragged through the halls of the Red Keep, the guard stopped at a door.

"Go in there. Tell him what you know. And be polite. The Spider is as deadly as he is knowing. He'll know if you lie, and he'll punish you for it." He let go of my arm, and opened the door. When I stepped inside, he closed it, and I didn't hear footsteps, signaling that he was still outside.

I examined the room. Call him lazy all you want, but the moron that sent me here at least had the decency to make this... Dream? Illusion? This... Whatever this is, is accurate.

It was a four walled room, and the floor, walls, and ceiling were all made from stone, likely granite. There was a single master bed the wall with the head on the wall left of the door, with a wooden chest at the end, which I think was made from oak. Either way, it was masterfully carved. The bed faced a balcony, and had what must have been extremely expensive sheets, given the technology of this... Whatever this is. I'll call it a Fantasy for now.

And by the balcony, was a man. Well, he was actually a eunuch. A male without... Male parts. Severed parts anyway. I faintly remember what he told Tyrion about how he lost his bits. The Spider was leaning over the balcony, with his back to me. All too easy to push over.

But no. I will need someone to trust, or at least use, until I have my own reputation here. And of my few choices, he is the most trustworthy. I definitely remember he wants Dany on the throne. If I were to pose as a Targarean sympathizer, it would gain me trust.

Wait, he doesn't want Dany. He wants her brother, who's still alive. Oh well. I'll just wait.

The bald eunuch finally turned his head, and said, "Hello sweetling." I cringed. I'm no ones sweetling. "I heard you're new around here. What brings you to this dreadful place?" He still had his back to me, but the tilt of his head showed he was paying attention to me.

I resisted sighing. I needed to show I had control of myself, and control of my future. "I'm in this room because your man dragged me here against my will. I'm in this city because of an idiot boy who doesn't quite realize that what he thinks is fun isn't fun for everyone else."

"Oh?" He asked. "Care to elaborate?"

I looked around the room for weapons. There wasn't anything here except for a table just a bit too big for me to use. "I doubt you'd believe me." I said. With any luck, he'd further interrogate me in this subject. I knew quite a bit on interrogation. If I showed resistance, he'll think I want to hide something. So I need resist on something I don't care if knows to distract him from what I don't want him to know.

"Try me." He said, almost bored.

He wasn't using many words. Not good. He was thinking, not talking. It's never good when people think. Perhaps a distraction. "A boy used magic to send me, and perhaps some of my friends, into this world. I landed in here." I think he flinched when I said 'magic'. Cringed, at the very least.

He was silent for a moment. "Magic, you say?"

I shrugged. I wasn't a fan of shrugging, bad posture, but it did go far for people to see that you were casual about something. "I can't explain it. And he never was good with science."

The Spider hummed. "And you claim your friends were also sent here?"

I curled my toes. I might have said too much. But I need him as an ally, and not telling the truth to allies is not a good way to keep allies. Secrets will always be revealed, and allies don't like it when you keep secrets from them. Best tell him the truth then. Not like there was anyone else in the castle that is good enough for me. Everyone else would betray me, but I think the Spider would remain loyal to me if he thought I was fighting with him. "I don't know for sure. We were at a party, he made us chant some ridiculous hymn, and I left. I went home, fell asleep, and woke up here. I haven't seen any of my friends. For all I know, they might be in a different world. Or still in theirs."

He remained silent for another moment. I think I was silent for just a second too long. "And how do I know you're not mad?"

Well. It was time for my TV addiction to pay off. "I know this world quite well. You're the Spider, who listens to every bird sing secrets, and you tell some secrets to everyone."

He waved a hand. "Everyone knows that. I'm the most famous secret keeper of own generation."

I blinked. Doesn't he know it's rude to interrupt someone? "But how many know how you became a eunuch?"

That caused him to turn around fully, and finally face me. "I very much doubt you know that. It's not very well known."

I put on my best smile. "But I know. I know that, and so much more."

He took a deep breath. "Prove it. Tell me my own story."

My smile slowly turned into a smirk. "You were just a boy. In a circus, if I recall. A strange man came, and offered a price for your head. Your circus master agreed, and you were sold. And you feared him, but you went. He gave you potion, and you couldn't move, but you could still feel. He cut off your bits, and threw them into a fire. He spoke, and the fire spoke back." I paused. His knuckles were gripping the railing, very white. I was right. "And it wasn't the man you fear. It wasn't the pain. It was the voice of the fire you fear."

"Stop." He interrupted. "I believe you. What do you want from this world, demon girl?"

I threw on a look of hurt. "I am no demon girl. I have never used magic, only had magic used on me. I wish to find a way to return home, or bar that, live a happy life here." It was the truth. I planned to rule my own world. But ruling this world would also make me happy.

"And just how do you plan to do that?" He asked. He wasn't as tense as he was before I said I did t use magic. Good.

"There are two children across the sea. I would see one of them on the Iron Throne." A part truth. If they came to Westeros, they would bring chaos with them. And I just happened to thrive in the middle of chaos. And emerge on top when everything went according to plan.

"And what is your name, girl? And the name of your magician friend?"

I stood just a bit straighter. "My name is Lauren Depp. As for my friend..." I frowned.

He looked disappointed. "Why do you not speak his name? Are you scared of him?"

I... How can this be? "I do. It fear him. But... I can't remember his name!"

The Spider frowned. "Another of his spells, perhaps. Call him the Magician, simply for him to have a name."

I nodded. "Now. Tell me your plans, and I'll tell you mine." Part of them anyway.

* * *

 **POV - Emma**

I am eating dinner with people from the Dark Age. Yep. A wooden table that could seat at least a dozen, but currently only had eleven, was my current place of confusion. I sat at the foot of the table.

At least they seemed nice. Mostly. The Starks, who were apparently lords of this region, or so they claimed, we're taking care of me.

The head was Ned, who was very stern, but clearly show his soft side to his family. He was oldish, I think maybe in his fifties. His hair was just starting to gray, and he carried that monster of a sword he called Ice with him everywhere. He seemed very honorable, and I immediately trusted him. He was of course, sitting at the head of the table.

Then there was his wife Catelyn, who told me to call her Cat. I think she liked me. She was around Ned's age, but must have been a beauty when she was younger. She was slightly less stern than her husband, and more inclined to show a soft side. Which she did to me. Because I'm super friendly and everyone loves me. She sat on her husbands left.

His oldest son was Robb, who seemed nice enough, and certainly cute enough, even if I didn't think he was particularly bright. He was charming, yes, but I've seen people like him. They feel, and don't think their actions through, getting through life by being just charming and lucky enough to get what they want. He was seated at his fathers right.

Next to Robb sat Theon, who was the most sexist, weasliest, awful person I've had the displeasure of meeting so far. He has made no less than three attempts at flirting with me, each turned down more rude than the last.

Luckily, Jon, who sat between Theon and I, had put a strong hand on Theons shoulder, and gave him a look. The kind of look that said, 'Leave her alone, or I won't leave you alone.' Very kind of him. Or maybe noble? Well, it made him my favorite male here so far. Ned was nice, but I still didn't know him well.

On Cats right, sat the eldest daughter, Sansa, who seemed to be physically a teenager, but no one had told her that fairy tales and princes don't exist. She seemed convinced that she'll marry a beautiful amazing knight and will live happily ever after. Poor girl. I pitied her.

Next to her, sat Arya. She was a wild spirit, and I wasn't sure how I felt about her. She was honest, brave, but also careless about how her words and actions impacted others.

Next to her sat her brothers Bran and Rickon, who were both too young to actually have Amy true characteristic. They were just boys, excited over any little thing, like a new person, or they're puppies.

And I still didn't know why Ned thought it was a good idea to give everyone these dogs. From what I understand, they're not normal dogs, these ones can grow large enough to be ridden into battle.

The meal was actually very good for medieval times, likely benefits of being nobles. They had roast duck, which was very good, and some vegetables, which were more healthy than tasty, but I figured I should eat them all to set a good example for the younger children. Everyone was almost done eating, and I think Ned and Cat had something to announce.

But I wouldn't press, I'll just keep talking to Rickon and trying to get Jon to say more than four words at a time until they feel like they're ready.

I asked Jon what his favorite type of sword was, and his eyes lit up just a bit. And just as his mouth opened to say what I was sure would be at least ten words, Ned interrupted him.

"Alright, I have an announcement to make." Everyone quieted down, and looked to the 'Warden of the North'. "The Hand of the King, Robyn Arreny is dead. The King is riding to Winterfell, and is likely to ask me to replace Robyn as Hand."

Sansa objected, Robb stayed silent even as Theon congratulated Ned on this opportunity, and Bran and Rickon looked just slightly less clueless than I did.

I turned to Jon, and whispered, "What does any of this mean?"

Jon turned to me, and I felt odd when his purple eyes bored into me. "First of all, you should know that Robyn was a mentor to my lord father, which is why he's giving Theon a bad look for being happy. The Hand serves as the second in command to the King, and the King, Robert Baratheon, has a... Poor reputation. The previous Hand did most of the ruling, while the King mostly just drank himself asleep with whores in his bed, and woke up to sign whatever the Hand told him to. If my lord father accepts, which he will because they are friends from previous wars, it will take him away from Winterfell, and his family, just to do what the King does while getting none of the respect."

"Oh." That was sad. Ned would have to leave everything he knew, just because this 'Robert' was too lazy to do it himself! "Would he be allowed to take anyone with him?"

Jon nodded. "Technically, yes. Ned could take whomever he chooses. He'd be the Hand after all. The second most powerful person in Westeros. But there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. So some of us would have to stay. Probably his wife, to manage the Bran and Rickon, who are too young for the capital. Robb would stay, as the heir to Winterfell. I don't know what Sansa and Arya will do."

"Would you go?" I asked.

Jon cringed, and I felt bad. Must have something to do with this nonsense about being a bastard. "Regardless of whether I wanted to or not, I should not. People would whisper things, and weaken my fathers position as Hand. I would not do that to him."

"Sorry." I frowned. I really need to figure out how to not make him feel bad about being born a bastard. It's not his fault after all. Ned was talking to Robb and Theon, Cat was talking to Sansa and Arya, while Bran talked at Rickon. I turned to the only silent person, and asked, "So then you're just going to stay here in Winterfell? It seems kind of drabby here, no offense."

Jon shrugged. "I might." He paused, but I kept staring at him until he continued, "I've always wanted to go take the Black, and guard the Wall."

"The Wall?" I asked. "What's that?" Couldn't be the Great Wall of China, we were speaking English.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You've never heard of the Wall? Well, suppose that fits. The Wall is a seven hundred foot wall of ice, designed thousands of years ago by Bran the Builder, to protect us from the Wildlings. Or the Others, but they're just stories."

That raised more questions than it answered. But I may as well just keep asking questions. "So what do you do at the Wall?"

"Guard the realm." Jon said. And stabbed the last bits of his meal with his fork.

"What does that even mean?" I asked. Seriously. There couldn't be a more vague answer if he tried. Which meant he was trying to give a vague answer. Which meant he didn't know what it meant. Oops.

"Well, it means protecting the wall from the Wildlings. Sometimes they get what they call a King Beyond the Wall, who rallies them to attack the wall. They've never succeeded, the Starks usually send enough men to fight them off, but the Wall is weaker than it's ever been."

Ok. I don't know what any of this means. But I don't want Jon to go, he's the only decent guy my age here! Also, he's way too young to fight. "Well you can't join now, you're too young."

That earned me a sharp glare. Apparently this was a sore spot. "I'm not too young." He almost spat out the last two words, but apparently he was too polite for that.

"Well at least don't leave me alone just yet." I squeezed his arm. People liked physical contact. "I like you more than anyone else, and it would be rude to leave a young lady such as myself alone and unguarded in a land she doesn't know."

He snorted. But I could tell he was thinking. Probably that waiting a year or two wouldn't be awful. Maybe give him some more time to train. Learn history. Or something. I don't know him that well. Yet.

* * *

 **POV - Amaury**

Things have somehow gotten better, and worse.

I was now fed, not thirsty, and with other people. Much better than wandering a desert alone and without any food.

However, I did not understand the language of the people I am with.

Of course, having someone put a collar you can't get off doesn't require verbal communication. I'm pretty sure I'm a slave of some sort at the moment.

I was being led through what was some sort of festival, where people were drinking, laughing, and fucking in the open. Already, I had my suspicion of what was going on. I recognized these people, even if I didn't know they're language.

I was in the Game of Thrones universe. But that was impossible. But here I am.

As I was looking at a curvaceous and topless woman dance, I failed to realize we had stopped. I looked up, and was further driven to the conclusion that everything that was impossible had already happened.

The Dothraki man handed a whip to a woman. With silver hair. And purple eyes. Next to a far too large man who had numerous scars and tattoos. This would not end well.

This is Danyerys Targeans wedding. And I'm a gift to her. As a slave. Joy.

Well, I suppose if I had to be thrown into a TV show, I should thank the stars that I'm near the hottest, sluttiest character that had ever walked the set. That she was mother of dragons helped a great deal.

"I don't suppose any of you speak this language, do you?" I asked. It would certainly be nice. They spoke English on the show, but maybe it switched or something here.

"You speak the common tongue?" Khalesei asked. "Impressive. Do you speak any other languages?"

"Je parle aussi le Fraçais et L'Anglais. Yo también hallo Francés e Ingles." I explained.

She smiled, and raised an eyebrow. " _That is most impressive, that you know both High Valerian and the language of the Asshai. But why do you not call them by their true names_?"

I shrugged. " _That's just what my people have called them_." I explained.

She leaned forward, and I shrank. Those purple eyes, no matter how young, were unnerving. " _And where do you come from? You do not look like any I have ever seen_."

I gave my best smile, but I think it still revealed how nervous I was. I brushed some hair out of my face, and ignored the noise of everyone in the background. " _I don't think you'd have heard of it. A small island, far away, of no real importance_." To this world, anyway.

She hummed, and leaned back. " _Very well. Grab a chair and sit with me. I could use some company_."

I found a chair, and sat behind her. Trying my best to look like I knew what I was doing.

" _So tell me of your land, that is so far away and mysterious_." She said.

The wedding was clearly not interesting her, and it was nice to know she could look to me. Although it was odd, since we had just met. Still, she asked for a story. Best give her a good one.

" _It is far, far away from here. I'm not entirely sure how I got here, to be honest. But I am glad I did, now I may have the pleasure of your company."_ She gave me a look, and I made a mental note to limit flirting to a minimum. " _I came from a place of many islands, and I went from one to another. I was born on the island of France, but moved to the island of the Unites States when I was a child_."

She smiled, relaxing. " _I also moved as a young child. Good to know we have some similarities_."

I smiled, happy that I was on the good side of a woman I knew fed people she didn't like to dragons. " _Which would you like to hear of first, France or the US? Of course, I know many others as well_."

She hummed for a moment. " _Tell me the names of all the islands you know. I assume there were more than just two_?"

I nodded. " _Indeed. There are six main islands, with some smaller ones around. Many nations exist on each of these islands, warring and developing with and against each other. The islands are North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia. France is on Europe, and the U.S. is on North America_."

The Khalesei hummed. " _And which of these nations is the best_?"

I laughed lightly. " _They all think they're the best. But in truth, they all have distinct advantages. Some are smarter, some are stronger, others more clever, more inventive. The reason there are so many is because none are so great as to conquer the others. And they have tried_."

She smirked. " _Has anyone come close_?"

" _Yes, very many. But all fail, just as they are about to succeed. Some are known as villains, other heroes, other still simply morally neutral conquers_."

" _And whom is your favorite, Amaury_?"

I paused. " _I'm sorry, how do you know my name_?" I asked.

She dismissively waved a hand. " _The man who gave you to me told me your name. Your favorite conquer, if you please_."

I huffed, which amused her. " _I would say Napoleon. But Napoleon is French, so I may have some bias_."

She laughed, and as she was about to ask more, a man interrupted her. I recognized the scene. He gave her dragons eggs, and she quickly forgot about me. Not that I could blame her, she was given dragon eggs after all.

* * *

 **POV - Matt**

Today was a good day. Much better than the last. I had a good meal, a warm bed.

Now I needed to find a way to get home. Mom was probably worried sick. Dad should be fine, if I can get back soon enough.

Make a plan, see it through. First, let's get to know the area.

The servant who showed me around was very kind, and explained many details of the castle I didn't know the purpose of in a patient way. He was a bit smaller than I, and was very basic looking. I forgot his face as soon as it left my sight.

Breakfast was delicious, if not simple. Soup and bread, with some apple juice.

Then, the Lady Melisandre explained to me the situation.

The Lord of this castle was away to see to a funeral. She was in charge. I would become a personal guard to the Lord, who's name was Stannis Baratheon, because she saw a vision in the flames. Whatever that meant. But I'd work on that later. In the meantime, I would be going to get custom armor, and get to know the residents of the castle, starting with the Lord's daughter.

I asked her what she thought of how I got here, and she asked me to better detail how I arrived, and the events leading up to my arrival. Apparently her flames gave her vague warning that allowed her to act, but not unnecessary details like how will happen, only that it will happen.

And so I told her of my not-at-all-adventurous tale, and she told me she would look into it while I was fitted for armor.

I trusted that she would keep her word. She fed me, housed me, and now was giving me a job. I would think of this as charity, which I dislike on principle, but a combination of necessity, not desperation, and her seeming to do this because of her flame visions, not the goodness of her heart.

Which made it all the more maddening, but I rolled with it.

I went to the armory, who told me to go to the tailor. I did, and I met the LOrd's daughter, Shireen, there.

She was very nice, and polite, even if she was scarred from some disease only in this world. She was tailored for some new night robes while I was fitted for everything I might need. Shireen was kind enough to stay with me even after she was done, so that I wouldn't be left with the man flourishing around me far faster than any man had a right to move, and taking measurements of ridiculous things like my pinky finger length and eyebrow length.

But I indulged the man, if only for Shireen and Lady Melisandre. They said I should just roll with it, and so I did. Well, they didn't say roll with it specifically, simply because they were ladies, but I knew what they meant.

And then the questions started. What was my favorite color? How did I prefer my armor, light, medium, or heavy? Chain mail or plate? What style should my helmet be? Will I be commissioning a weapon here as well as armor?

Shireen was a bigger help than I anticipated for a girl her young age to be, but I was grateful for it. She apparently knew what her father would want for my armor.

I ended up with armor colored red, gold, and black, the Baratheon colors, heavy armor with both chainmail and plates, a Southern style helmet, and a custom longsword. Of course, I would have to wait for them to be made, but the man assured me that they would be done within a fortnight, sooner if I don't mind the color, which Shireen certainly did. So a fortnight it was.

* * *

 **POV - Vannessa**

So apparently I'm going to live in a castle, for as long as the little boy says I can.

Not fantastic. Not ideal.

But I am surviving.

All I need to do is survive until I can figure a way out, or someone rescues me.

Someone will probably rescue me. If the fool who I think sent me here actually did, then six others came to this place with me.

And they all like me.

Well, except for Matt, there's a very strong chance he won't be the first in line to save me, but he'd rescue me anyway because he has to if he wants to say he's a nice guy. And he REALLY wants to say he's a nice guy.

I sighed.

I wonder who'll save me. Emma definitely would, but I'm not sure she could. She's not very adaptable. Lauren might, if she thinks it's in her best interest. So probably not. I already know Matt will. Ebby would, he's cool. And as for the idiot...

Wait, why can't I remember his name?

Whatever. That doesn't matter, I know his face. He'll save me if he gets the chance, I'm sure of it.

I just need to hold out a little longer. Then I can go home.

* * *

 **POV - Ebby**

The Free Folk are strange folk. They have no real laws, no real system of government.

I think what they do is just... The strongest guy does what he wants, and everyone follows, or someone challenges, then they fight, until one dies or submits. Then they do what the victor said, no matter how stupid.

Which was quite barbaric, but easily fixed.

They respected strength, did they? Well, I can give them strength, if I can get my hands on a good longsword. That'd be the tricky part.

If I could, I'd have to challenge Tormund, and win in a fight. I've seen him fight a 'crow'. Basically, his style is to scream, unnerve his opponents, and smash.

I am easily unnerved by men fighting. It's very simple. Of course, standing up in front of everyone is a whole different story, but if I ignore them for long enough, I can get the challenge out, then fight, win, and lead. Leading is easy. Just don't be stupid.

I think I'll find a river, and then find the coast. Establish a permanent camp there, using the fish and land to farm. Since everyone around here are nomads, the fish should be abundant, and the land unsoiled.

The hard part would be defending the camp.

From what I understand, other groups will try to come after mine. So I'll have to set up some defenses. Not too difficult. There was lots of forest around here, good for harvesting wood, which can be used for building walls, or spikes in the ground to slow horses, or any number of things. Even fishing ships. Hey, that's a good idea! Way to go, me!

I smiled. And there's the river. Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

 **POV - ?**

The Land of Always Winter was very cold. But I was very good with magic, so I wasn't cold.

I encountered the Army of the Dead much sooner than I would have thought I would have.

Of course, they weren't a challenge. They were just zombies, no matter what the Others would like to call them. Just throw some fire around and they'll stay far, far away. And throwing fire around was not only something I'm extremely skilled at, it is something I take extreme pleasure in doing.

Needless to say, when the Others found me, they did not underestimate me. But they were scared of me, and my fire, which is about an equal advantage.

I stripped them of their weapons, and examined their memories.

Magic was ever so useful, but some branches were hard to find.

For instance, I know a spell that will throw myself and six others into another world of my choosing, but not one that will turn myself immortal.

Until now, of course.

Actually, that wasn't true. I still couldn't turn myself truly immortal.

The King of Ice had the dubious honor of being the only true immortal on this continent, and I must strip him of his immortality before I can claim mine.

But that'll be easy enough. From the memories I've found so far, magic is rare is in Westeros, and relatively unheard of north of the Wall. Just some wargs and greenseers. No big deal.

They weren't battle hardened warlocks like me.

But then again, who is?

* * *

 ** _That was fun. Sorry for the wait. I'm a very lazy person, and an even lazier author._**

 ** _Big thanks to Vannessa (with two Ns) for Betaing this chapter. I have pet peeve for grammar and spelling mistakes, and she has a good eye for pointing out my mistakes. Also, I sometimes do stupid things, and it's good to have someone to tell me not to do the stupid things I WILL inevitably do._**


	3. Roadmapping

Radical - Chapter Three - Roadmapping

* * *

 ** _Wow, I'm updating pretty fast here. Compared to my usual, anyway. Make sure to leave a review, they tell me what I did right/wrong!_**

 ** _Some of you may be worried that High Valyrian is a separate language, and that my mixing it with French is uncanonical/lame. To those I say, yes, but it's a FanFICTION, based on reality. With some magic. So yeah. Deal with it._**

 ** _Also, in case I didn't say it, thanks to Vannessa (from Radical, yes) for editing this._**

* * *

Narration

"Dialogue"

 _French/High Valyrian_

 **POV - Character**

 ** _Authors Note_**

* * *

 **POV - Lauren**

I sighed. It was difficult explaining seemingly basic things to people from the medieval ages. The Spider had called me a witch no less than three times!

But it turned out well enough. I can confidently say that he will be a staunch ally for quite some time. I shared with him the effects of helium, and it's use for balloons, which would be deadly during war, if only one side had them.

I also made him promise to search out, and purchase lands that had large quantities of oil. While it may not be useful now, only good for siege warfare, once technology progressed sufficiently, oil would be worth more than liquid gold. Especially if I was the only one to have it.

He has, in the short time that I've known him, been very kind to me. He gave me the luxurious room I met him in, including the bed that, despite being from the medieval era, is by far the most comfortable piece of furniture I've ever had the pleasure to lay on. Bar none. That's where I am now, in a thin purple silk gown that the Spider provided me, along with the promise of more clothing tomorrow, once his tailor measured me.

I made sure to remind him that I also expect an armorer, because I want my knives. A rapier would be nice, but I do not believe it would be appropriate for the environment. For now. People in the medieval times have this notion that women are only good for pleasure and generating babies. The fools. I'm far more inclined to produce human corpses than human babies.

When should I betray The Spider?

He has no real allies, only people who have beneficial relationships with him, so I doubt anyone would care much. He's inspired no real love, only begrudging respect for his usefulness. As long as my betrayal was fatal, there shouldn't be any long term consequences.

But of course, I shouldn't do that for some time, at least until I have a full and complete grasp of his spy network, and the Webs loyalty to me, should he pass.

Furthermore, he made several important moves in the books and show. My predictions heavily rely on as little changing as possible.

If the blasted fool was smart enough to figure out how to send us here, I have no doubt he will know this, and make plans to change events for his own sick amusement. I have a bad feeling that's entirely why we're here. Because he was bored of Earth, and he didn't want to play by himself in this new world.

I suppose I could feel honored, he likely knew that I would oppose him, which implies that he choose me because he thinks I'm a worthy opponent.

I sighed again.

Back to what matters, my plans.

Quite frankly, I'm not worried. I know the people down here better than they do; I know who's plotting against who, who's paying who, everything. Even if some betrayal doeen't happen the same way, or even at all, everything should be manageable, as long as Jon Snow goes to the Wall to stall the Others and the Wildlings, I can take the world.

In any given conquest, or even just ruling a location, there are three major things one must have: the people's support, enough wealth to support three times the population and then some, and a military to protect the nation.

The populations support will come easily, especially if I let Joffery rule for even a short period of time. The next in line to the throne inspired more hate than love, even in his fathers supporters. I need only wait a few short months, likely spent amassing a fortune, and the people will call for a new ruler. Me.

Wealth should be no problem. Capitalism is the game, and I am the player. Had I been born a boy, my name would've been Reagan. The best plan I can see at the moment is to obtain lands, use the steam engine to create and operate conveyor belts, which will make both weapons and be the highest form of revenue on the planet. My production would be unrivaled. The issue would be obtaining lands, but it should be no problem, if I can find a proper suitor to seduce.

The military would actually be the easiest. I believe that trebuchets are still the siege weapon of choice, which will quickly be replaced under my regime. Cannons are easily made, requiring only steel, iron, and gunpowder, all things that can be made efficiently in a factory.

But these last two rely on me having large amounts of land and servants, of which I have none. Well, I have a servant gifted to me by the Spider, but she's more for combing my hair and emptying my chamber pot, I'm afraid.

Robb Stark is the first person to come to mind. He is handsome enough, and he has enough land for my factories. If I invite some of the Wildlings to come down, they would adequately populate the otherwise void land.

But he's too emotional. King in the North he may be, for a time anyway, but my ambitions are greater than that, and he would certainly choose to remain with his people. I could kill him, but without producing an heir, I would have no ties to his throne. He is not acceptable.

I suppose the Tyrels would be a good choice. Margery is a beauty, and I wouldn't mind getting my hands on her... But alas, there are no same-sex marriages in Westeros. Yet.

Her brother, Loras. Would also be acceptable. He's gay, but I'm lesbian, so it would work out.

Bah, but he's in love with Renly. And Renly declares himself King later! Even if I were willing to rule behind the scenes, which I am NOT, there would be complications.

Oh well. These are tomorrow problems. Tonight, I shall sleep, and tomorrow, I shall plot again. The King, Robert Baratheon, has left for Winterfell in the North. He should be gone for some weeks, and since he brought most of the nobles with him, I should be allowed to plot freely.

* * *

 **POV - Emma**

Things had gone quite well.

Despite Jon acting like a proper young emo teenager, the evening was fun. The King arrived, and there was a large feast. I didn't talk the anyone from the Capitol, since I left to find Jon once I realize she wasn't there.

Ok fine, so maybe I only left after I realized WHY he wasn't there.

FINE, ok, I had to be told why he wasn't there, whatever. I still left, and that's what counts!

Anyway, it turns out he decided his time would best be spent whacking a poor dummy for sword practice. After some sweet talking, and some not so subtle slights, I challenged him to a fight.

He, like every male fighter I've met to date, save the stupidest boy in the world, didn't believe I could fight at all. I told him I doubted he could fight at all, and he accepted. Men were fun, if not a bit too easy, to manipulate.

Anyway, it took me quite awhile to find some armor that fit me. It was just leather armor, I'm not big enough for steel plate or chain mail. Still, it covered my entire body, more or less, and it should stop most knives and non-armor piercing arrows, while still giving excellent mobility.

I armed myself with two daggers, and came out to find Jon in chain mail too big for him, wielding a bastard sword that was just slightly too long for him. This should be easy.

"Ready to lose to a girl, Snow?" I called out. There was about a ten foot distance between us, which was fine by me. I made a defensive stance, crossing my arms, both daggers held in reverse grip.

"I'm ready to beat some sense into one." He said. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was teasing me!

"I don't think you will." I said. I can't quite come up with any good bait at the moment, so I'll just keep talking until he attacks. Teenage boys aren't known for their surplus of patience, after all.

"Well, watch closely!" He took two steps forward, and raised his sword for an overhand blow.

I raised an eyebrow. That was quick. I was taught to enjoy the banter, as if it were foreplay. Clearly, we were taught very differently.

As his sword came down, my right arm trusted out, deflecting the blow, and throwing him to my left, off balance.

Almost painfully predictably, he swung his too long sword off hand, hoping natively to surprise me.

My left arm flew forward, deflecting the blow above me, while I switched the grip on my right hand, which quickly shot towards Jons throat, were it found its mark.

Jon paused, staring disbelieving. He had just been defeated by a girl!

I smirked. "I'm watching. What should I be looking for?" There's the bait. A bit late, yes, but it should ensure a second round.

"A foolish boy that has yet to learn that training loses to experience every time." Came a voice from behind me.

I looked, and saw blonde. This must be the Queens brother, Jaime Lannister. Golden blonde hair, and emerald green eyes, he walked towards us in golden armor, I think it was the Kingsguards armor.

Poor Jon was still standing there, sword hanging in the air, completely harmless. I sighed, and took a step back, and he let out a sigh, as if he were scared I would actually hurt him.

"Do you mind?" I asked. "We were having a moment." I out my hands on my hips, to show my displeasure. Of course, I never let go of my knives. That was once of the first things my instructor taught me.

"Oh, no, don't mind me. I enjoyed the battle. I'd be more than happy to watch another, or even participate, should my lady request it." He gave a smile that would put most girls shaking their knees, but just made me angrier. I hate fuckboys.

"No thank you. We were quite done." I turned to Jon, who was slowly coming to his senses. "Come on Jon, let's go feed Ghost." I didn't like that wolf. He was kind of cute when he was tiny, but it grew faster than bamboo. Now it was just scary.

The man had the gall to look disappointed. "Come now, no need for that. Let's at least introduce ourselves. My name is Jaime Lannister, Kingsguard. And you?"

I rolled my eyes. Well, if it'll get him to leave... "My name is Emma Dewshown. This is Jon Snow. Neither of us are employed." Jon blinked when he heard his name, and I gripped his arm, pulling him slightly behind me. I don't like that look Jaime's giving Jon.

"Ah, the infamous bastard to Ned Stark. The only stain on his honor." Jaime said. I don't like him. Why aren't there more decent guys here? Ug. "You know, my brother would like to see you. He likes... people that aren't well liked. I believe he mentioned you several times on our way here."

I resisted rolling my eyes again. "I'm sure he would. But we really have to go. Goodbye." And with that, I dragged the almost fully comprehending Jon Snow back to the castle. Time for sleep.

* * *

 **POV - Amaury**

Today was... Eventful. My tent is next to my new 'Master', Daenerys Targaryen, and certain sounds are emanating from the tent. Well, it is her wedding night after all. Although she doesn't seem to like it now, I know she will in time. I saw the show, after all. Hers is quite an interesting love story.

I probably should be more upset about being a slave. I know it's only temporary, but it's still offensive. This neck think, I think it's made of leather, goes all around my neck, and is quite painful.

Whatever. Dany will free all of her slaves when Khal Drogo dies. That shouldn't be more than a week from now. And that's a fair price to pay.

I wonder if I should make a move on Dany... I'm certain that if I played it carefully, I could be the center of her attention.

Let's see, after the Khal dies, she goes on to wander the desert sea. I'll flirt with her then, keep her in good spirits. When we get into that city, whatever it's name is, I can cement my relationship. I probably shouldn't try to sleep with her until after that, no matter how enticing it may be.

But that's fine. Until then, I can keep her occupied with stories of history, and basically every joke known to Earth. During dinner, she nearly fell from her chair laughing when I told her the 'Chicken crossing the road' story. I can't wait to see how she'll react to some of my better jokes.

* * *

 **POV - Matt**

Today I practiced with a proper longsword. It had been some time, so I was worried that I wouldn't have been any good, but I ended up trouncing every man who challenged me, and quite a few did.

I didn't have my custom armor yet, which was a disappointment to Shireen, who was apparently very excited to see me in my armor. While I was initially off put by her scars, I've grown rather fond of Shireen. She's sweet, innocent, and I decided to make it my business to see that she remains that way.

Anyway, Lady Melisandre decided to make me Captain of the guard for Lord Baratheon, which I think is a great honor. I hope to do a good job, but I'm pretty new here, so I don't know if I'll do the best job.

I voiced my concerns to Lady Melisandre, who told me not to worry, that the Lord of Light will protect Lord Baratheon, and that my title was mostly just to distinguish me from the other guards. I am still unsure about how I feel about that. But, there's nothing to be done, so I spent the rest of the day familiarizing myself with the castle with the assistance of Shireen.

I wish I could help these people more, but I don't know much about science outside of chemistry. And even then, I really only know how to blow shit up. Not make medicine, or anything like that.

I know the basics of how to make a gun, sure, but not the specifics. Bullet goes here, trigger there, but shouldn't there be something between them?

So I contented myself by ensuring my lords safety. They guards seemed very devoted, and I could spot no holes in the patrols.

I commented on how devoted the guards seemed, and Shireen explained that there was a reason behind this.

The Lady Melisandre was a staunch believer in the Lord of Light, which was a minor religion in Westeros, the continent I am in. She has been converting people rapidly, and the division causes believers of the Red God, Melisandres God, and the previous majority religion, the Light of the Seven, to strive to be better than the other side.

Shireen was apparently an atheist, which I didn't like, but I didn't comment. She asked what religion I belonged to, and I just told her she wouldn't know about it.

She went on to explain that while there were still people that believed in the Seven, they were dwindling every day. Shireen thought the Red God would rule over them all in less than a year.

Not that I cared. My faith in God was too strong to be converted. I'd try to convert others to Christianity, but I was never really good at it, and it would only make me an enemy. I decided I'd drop it.

Best to just make sure everyone's safe. That's my job now.

* * *

 **POV - Vannessa**

Ug, I'm so bored.

There's nothing to do here.

There's no cute boys to talk to, there's no girls to gossip with, there's just knights, and that crazy boy that screams whatever crosses his mind.

There were three executions today.

I shuddered. Apparently, the form of execution in the Vale is to throw people out of what they call they Moon Door.

It's basically just a hole in the floor.

The reason it's fatal? Because the castle that hole is in is built on top of a mountain. The drop is thousands of feet long.

I don't like Westeros. I need to find a way to leave here, and find a way home, and I need to do it quickly.

* * *

 **POV - Ebby**

I am being led through tents full of people, children and adults, to their leader, Mance Rayder. There were supposed to be one hundred thousand of these Free Folk, which seemed to me to be far too many for any one man.

Of course, the Giants were more surprising, along with their mammoths, but still. There should be some sort of sub-leaders.

There were three guards leading me, each dressed in heavy gray furs, to protect them from the cold. The two behind me were just grunts armed with axes, but the one in front of me appeared to be more important.

Eventually, we arrived, and I was ushered into the largest tent yet.

Inside, I found a large table that was seated by XXX men.

The first one I noticed was a giant. He was sitting in the corner, barely paying attention, but he was still hard to miss.

The next was a man in all gray, with a skull as a helmet. Odd, but not as surprising as the Giants.

The third was a man, probably in his sixties, sitting at the table. The table itself appeared to be some sort of battle map, with a giant wall with several castles on one side, and gray pieces that looked like they resembled people on the other.

"My name is Ebby Camelot. I bring with me knowledge of tools to help in your endeavors."

The giant rolled his eyes, and turned back to the fire, seemingly deciding that I'm not worth his time.

What's worse, is the skull man actually laughed, while the seated man snorted.

The skull man spoke first, saying, "Unless you have knowledge of the Crows castles, me and Mance don't need nothing."

The other man, apparently named Mance, then spoke up. "Well, there's no harm in letting him talk. Whatcha got, boy?"

"I know how to make a weapon that shoots a rock ten times as fast as an arrow, and four times as far." I said. Guns would be useful here, if not difficult to make without factories.

Mance raised an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose you'd have one of those here, would ya?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't. But I know how it's made." It's true, I did. Gunpowder and careful smithing is enough to make guns and cannons.

Mance rolled his eyes. "And just what would you need to make these... What do you call them, boy?"

I smiled. "The small ones, about the size of a short sword, are called pistols. The ones about the size of long swords are called rifles. And the ones that are bigger than horses are called cannons." I handed him a list I had previously drawn up. "This is all I need to make one for a demonstration. It may seem a bit like witchcraft, or magic, but I assure you, it's all science."

Mance looked over the list, and held it to his friend, who waved it off. Odds are he can't read. Mance cleared his throat, and asked, "Why would we need such things? We have bows and arrows, which have been good to us for generations."

I nodded. "Yes, they have. But these will be better. My cannons can rip through stone walls two feet thick. My rifles can shoot through steel armor easily, and my pistols are easily concealed weapons that can kill a man from thirty feet away with only two seconds warning. That, and your enemies would fear this. They'd see you shooting fire, which is required for this, and they'd know fear."

Mance stroked his chin, and replied, "I can give these to ya easily enough. But what guarantee do I have that you'll give them to us, and not run to the crows?"

I held my head a little higher, and replied, "Only my word, as good as it is. I know of you and your Free Folk. I believe that this is the way to live, and that you and your people should live on the other side of the wall. Any who oppose you are not fit to live."

After a moment of silence, both of the two men broke out laughing, leaving me frowning.

"Well boy," Mance stared. "You're a true believer. I can see that. I'll give you the stuff, not that we need any of it, just for fun. If you're wrong, we lose materials we don't need. If you're right, we'll blow the crows away!"

* * *

 **POV - ?**

I would have never guessed that the Others were such pushovers!

After burning through a couple score of wights, which were ALSO pushovers (just throw some fire at them and BOOM), an Other charged me, the nerve!

I simply threw a fireball at him, and he disintegrated.

After that, I continued my journey for about two hours, completely undisturbed. I think they wanted the cold to kill me, and do their dirty work for them.

They failed, of course, and I came across a rather beautiful wall of ice. Not the Wall, made by Bran the Builder, manned by humans, this was far more elegant.

It is, at my best guess, sixty feet high, and completely smooth! It is the color of an Others eyes, a creamy but deep blue. I can't tell how deep it went, being on the outside, but I walked across it until I found a gate.

And what a gate it was! Fifty feet wide, the two doors were masterpieces of sculpture, able to make Da Vinci himself cry. Unlike the wall it was part of, the doors are made of ebony wood, which is held to the wall by what I believe is obsidian stone, black as death, but somehow they actually carved into it! Obsidian, known as dragon glass here, is notoriously difficult to carve, due to its brittleness, but the Others must have found a way!

The doors were smooth, probably because they have to be replaced so often due to the cold, but the obsidian surrounding it had scenes carved into it. An Other fighting a small child, the child fighting (and defeating!) man, and finally, man fighting Others. It was gorgeous.

In order to preserve the masterpiece, I created a small stream of fire from my fingertips, and shot it towards the snow beneath the wall about twenty feet away. Soon enough, I had a tunnel that I used to get into the other side. I was sure I was in the Land of Eternal Winter.

Now I have to find the Prince, steal his immortality, and claim my throne.

* * *

 ** _That's weird... I actually like this chapter! Despite being mostly fluff, it was pretty fun to write. Cool._**

 ** _I've realized that this is moving pretty slowly, and I'm sorry. But GoT has a lot of high points, but they all require even more fluff. On the bright side, this gives me a great deal of time for character development, which I enjoy, but it's not the most exciting._**

 ** _Btw, yes, this is the end of the first episode. Slow, right?_**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! It shows that you care. And that this isn't awful._**


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